


Call Me

by AlbaStarGazer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Butt Dialing, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, F/M, Flirting, Footjob, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Spanking, Teasing, Very happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-06-30 04:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19845850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlbaStarGazer/pseuds/AlbaStarGazer
Summary: Butt dial.1. To inadvertently call (someone) on a mobile phone in one's rear trouser pocket, as a result of pressure being accidentally applied to a button or buttons on the phone“Fuck me, Ben, please, I need you!”In which Rey butt-dials her boss, Ben, who she’s liked for years, when she’s getting off, moaning his name.When it’s over, she notices the ongoing call, panics and hangs up, only for her to receive a message from him seconds later:‘Call me.’





	1. Butt-dial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AdriannaXVI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdriannaXVI/gifts), [v3ryvelvet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/v3ryvelvet/gifts), [JustAnotherSailorScout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherSailorScout/gifts).



> Before I begin, I need to thank a few people for helping me through my writer’s block.
> 
> **Rachel:**
> 
> You have been the best help with this one. You cheered me on every second of the way, bounced ideas and made me believe I could write something different to what I usually do. 
> 
> I love you, my fellow worm.
> 
> **Adrianna:**
> 
> You accidentally butt-dialled me and inspired this. Thank you!
> 
> **Meg:**
> 
> You cheered me on and sent the best music that really inspired me. Thank you!

It’s snowing.

Rey curses under her breath.

After a minor accident the week before, her car’s still in the shop and so she’s been walking to work. It’s not far, not really, but she’s not particularly in the mood to brave the cold and paths topped fairly high with fresh snow. Plus, she isn’t wearing the right kind of shoes and by leaving time, she knows she’ll be trudging through ankle deep snow. 

It’s a Friday so she’s more than ready for the weekend. There wasn’t enough coffee in the state to wake her that morning. She skipped lunch, opting to neglect her red berry smoothie and small bag of chips for a stealthy nap just so she could feel a little more human. She’s still tired but at least she can function to some extent. Which in basic terms meant she stared at her computer screen for the most part and pretended to write things in a notebook whilst neglecting the majority of her to-do list.

Any other day, she would’ve thrown herself into her work but her boss had been distracted, pent up and hadn’t really called on her. Plus, she’s good at her job, being his personal assistant is no easy task but she manages it well and efficiently meaning she can give herself some reprieves on days like these.

Ben Solo, for all intents and purposes, is one the most successful CEOs in America and she considers it a privilege to work for him. There’s no denying all that she’s learned from him during her time there. His brilliant mind is inspiring.

He’s young and handsome, quiet for the most part with eyes that see all but there are times when situations arise and he loses all of his patience and lets his temper show. It usually takes a lot for him to fly off the handle but when he does, his passion shows, so hot and fiery, if anyone nears too close, he’ll likely burn them.

She wants to burn.

That afternoon, he’d all but growled down the phone at one of their investors, Andrew Snoke, a vicious, ruthless man who Ben shared a long and complicated past with. 

After the shouting match, which Ben most definitely won, she heard him throw something against the wall, it shattered with the force.

From then, she observed him, too distracted to do anything else. He paced the length of his office like a caged animal, red in the face and his hair messily tousled due to him running his hands through it. He spewed profanities, loudly and tugged at his tie, loosening it, before he caught her looking at him. It stopped him in his tracks, he ceased all movement and stilled like a tamed beast.

There was a moment when she felt her lips part as his broad shoulders rose up, his equally wide chest heaved before he stalked towards the window. His fingers curled around the string as he brought the blinds down, so slowly and obscured himself from her view.

There was a beat of silence where her mind blanked then she found herself swallowing hard, wondering if he was embarrassed that she’d witnessed his outburst. He had no need to be if that was the case. 

Everyone loses control from time to time. 

It’s human nature, to break and just let yourself feel and let turbulent emotions out in any way they see fit before they boil up inside and ruin a person.

It made her want to laugh because the fact is, the way he moved like a riled animal, ready to explode, had her clenching her thighs and adjusting herself in her seat because she’s liked him from the first time she saw him and wanted him ever since that moment.

She’s sure the feeling’s not mutual.

Around her, he remains strictly professional most of the time, as anyone boss would conduct himself around an employee.

Except, there are stolen moments that she hides away in the back of her mind that she draws from when she thinks of him, when she tells herself that he wants her as much as she wants him. She’s usually in her bed with her fingers buried knuckle _deep._

She thinks of the times he hovers just a fraction too close, pressing his front against her back as he leans over to instruct her on a task. Where the heat of his skin and the spicy scent of his cologne is all she can taste. Then there are the stares, in particular, the ones in boardroom meetings when she longs to escape the stuffy room fulling of droning old men.

She always seems to catch him staring right at her, unabashed as he runs his pen along the seam of his full lips, like he’s deep in thought and she’s the centre of them all, a stain right in the centre of his mind. In those situations, she’s always the first to look away, her cheeks aflame, never quite bold enough to pin him back in place and make him _squirm._

Now, she finds her gaze drifting towards his office. For the last couple of hours, it’s been quiet, almost too quiet for him and so she gathers her bag and coat, noting the time and approaches his door.

After giving it some thought, she pauses, hand raised. 

Maybe it would be easier to leave him be and give him his privacy. That idea doesn’t sit right with her, she just wants to know if he’s okay. Otherwise, she’ll worry. She pulls her lip between her teeth, thinking way too hard about just knocking on a door when it opens and she nearly falls backward. He’s quick to catch her, a firm grip on her waist keeps her in place.

His hands make little of her flesh and bone, like they’re something so fragile that he can crush and eat up or use in anyway he pleases if he wishes to do so. A blush stains her cheeks and she still has her hands on his shoulders, a reflex that came without much thought when her mind reacted to her near fall. 

They’re close, much too close and then again, not close _enough._ Her breasts press against his torso, the fabric of her blouse feels much too thin. She rarely wears a bra as there isn’t much to cover but now she feels more exposed than ever. It comes as no surprise that she feels them harden and poke through the fabric. He must feel them too.

The muscle under his eye twitches and then with a reluctance so blatant, he lifts his hands from her but does so one finger at a time. The realisation comes to her then, that he’d been squeezing her quite hard, just the same amount of pressure like her own hands on his shoulders. 

_Bruising._

She clears her throat and drops her hands to her side, taking a backwards step.

His eyes seem to darken in the lowlight, dilating and swallowing almost all colour.

“Are you okay, Rey?”

No, not really. She wants him to hold her again and not let go until her back is pressed against the carpet and his hips jerk forward a final time between her legs, leaving them both spent and _thoroughly_ fucked.

“Yes, I wanted to check in on you.”

His brow raises up and he tilts his head.

“That’s nice of you. I’m better now, much better. Can I walk you to your car?”

She nods and that coaxes a smile from him.

“Wait no.”

“No?”

He looks disappointed.

“No. My car’s in the shop. I’ll walk or try flag down a cab.”

“There’s no need, I’ll drive you home,” he says, gesturing to the window where just beyond it, she can see the snow’s picked up, falling thick and heavy.

“I don’t want you to go out of your way,” she lets her words trail off, unsure of why she’s trying to decline his offer.

“It’s not, please, I’ll feel better if I knew you were home safe and sound.”

She nods.

The walk to the parking garage is spent mostly in silence, Ben walks with his hands deep in his pockets and she stares a bit too hard at her feet thinking about how he must have felt her against him, that tell tale sign of arousal. It’s not like she can say she was cold, he keeps the office warm, almost too warm, especially in the winter. 

A small part of her is still thinking of how he caught her like the reflex’s ingrained in his mind and how holding her is the most natural thing in the world to him.

Of the firm press of his fingertips caging her ribcage and stealing the breath right out of her.

The beep of his Mercedes unlocking rouses her from her thoughts. He opens the door for her, ushering her inside. The interior consists of burgundy red leather, the smell still so fresh like it’s brand new. As soon as he’s seated, he fiddles with the dials and heat begins to waft around.

She almost doesn’t know how to sit, still taken aback by the luxury and technology but eventually she manages to click her seatbelt in place, just as the car comes to life. The engine is quiet, the vibration subtle.

“Where to?” 

Before he sat, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it in the backseat. He’s rolling his sleeves up, exposing his bare forearms, just as thick as the rest of him, the blues of his veins are noticeable against the paleness of his skin. The Rolex on his wrist glints in the light too. 

“24 Johnson Street, it’s not too far, I can show you were to go.”

He nods, eyeing her for a moment before he throws the car in reverse, the movement fluid, precise and faster than she anticipated. She refrains from ruining his seat by gripping it too tightly. He races around the corner, his control of the car evident, she can see him smirking. It’s a bit of a rush. He weaves through the levels, never turning too early or too late.

As soon as they exit the parking garage, it’s a different story. The snow slows them significantly and he takes much more care, his eyes solely trained on the road. A instrumental classical song plays from the speakers, its lulling tune a far cry from what she thought he’d listen to. She’s not sure what she was expecting. 

The sun is making a steady downward descent, it’s already dark and yet she finds herself drawn to his hands once again. She knows she’s staring but she can’t help but think about how large they are, they span the steering wheel and make it look tiny. Unlike her own long and slender fingers, his are what she can only describe as thick. His knuckles are wide and she lets herself imagine how full she would feel with just one, she’s not too greedy as she knows just how much it would stretch her, open her up in a way that no other had done so before.

She clenches _nothing_ , mournful for a fleeting second.

He undoubtedly feels her gaze because in a far from conspicuous manner, he chances a sideways glance and zeroes in on the way she’s subconsciously crossed her legs and tilted her hips just right to give her some reprieve. Her skirt’s ridden up, showing more thigh than usual. Despite her efforts, the friction is not enough, she’s unable to move much without attracting further attention.

His nostrils flare and his fingers tighten against the steering wheel, turning his knuckles bone white against red leather. He’s obviously noticed and all she can think of is how wet she is and wondering if it would seep through her layers and leave a stain of her presence and want there that he could smell on his journey home.

She wants to make him dizzy with it.

Unable to do much else and fighting an internal battle, she averts her eyes and gazes out of the window. It’s stupid. He’s her boss, he’s never shown this kind of interest in her and she’s embarrassing herself. It’s unfair to him. She chews the inside of her cheek, hoping to curb the taste of bile rising in her throat, her stomach’s in knots.

_But he’s never been this close to you somewhere away from the office._

The traitorous thought crosses her mind. 

They’d know each other for years but solely in the professional sense. Work kept them both busy. What if his thoughts mirrored her own? If the same insecurities and professionalism that plagued her kept him from expressing himself.

She brings her hand up and smiles against her knuckles and thinks once again of any subtle hints that come to mind and just like that, her bitter shame is washed away. 

She watches the streets blur outside the window and the steady rise of snow, the street lights paint the street amber, it looks warm despite the frigid and frosty conditions.

They’re nearly at her house when a car darts out of nowhere, intercepting their lane. Ben swerves just in time to avoid hitting it, she’s thrown forward a bit, the seatbelt keeps her from moving too much but it’s a shock. She grunts, the impact so sudden and as soon as the sound leaves her lips, Ben’s hand finds its way on her thigh, squeezing it. It feels like a reassurance, a comfort she’s been deprived of for years.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, though his eyes remain forward, his eyes wide. He works his jaw.

When they pull up to a red light, he pulls next to the car that cut them off and Ben explodes.

The driver rolls down his window just as Ben does, he points, shouting louder than she’s ever heard him do so before which is saying something considering she’s heard him at his worst.

“You fucking idiot, you could’ve caused an accident!”

That’s all she can clearly discern in his rant since he’s hanging out of his window and bellowing at the man.

She’s fairly certain he’s ready to jump right out of the car and throttle the man to death. All the while, his hand remains on her thigh. His pulse point drums against her skin, so rapid and hard and once again, she tries to tamper down how hot she finds his temper.

He’s unpredictable, soft and sweet one moment and then in the next, he’s like a different man, one who could take down anyone with his barehands. It’s like those primitive instincts deeply rooted in her DNA come alive and scream in turn that this is a man who can protect her. This is a man at the top of the food chain.

The light changes and Ben’s practically hissing, which as an official Pottermore housed Slytherin, she appreciates it but cars are beginning to honk their horns and she doesn’t really want Ben to get in trouble so she tugs his wrist.

“Ben, let’s go, he’s not worth it, I’m okay.”

That seems to snap him out whatever tangent he’s on, he folds his frame back into the car, almost breathless and with flushed cheeks. He appraises her, his eyes so wild and dark. She pleads with him without words and he regains his composure, muttering under his breath as he continues to drive.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out.

“I get it. He was reckless,” she responds, feeling him squeeze her thigh a final time before he pulls it away to shift gears.

He nods and she lets him cool down.

She wishes she could give him another way to take out his anger but she squashes that thought for now and sits in silence.

It’s not long before he stops outside of her house, far more calmer. He kills the engine and pushes his dark hair out his face, working his plump lips together.

“Thank you for the ride home, Ben, I really appreciate it,” she smiles, almost wanting to run into the house because she needs to do something about the heat and wetness between her legs.

He barks out a laugh with a shake of his head.

“Any time. Call me if you need me on Monday, okay? Don’t hesitate.”

She knows there’s no point in arguing or declining. The offer is there.

“I will.”

She collects her purse and opens the door, stepping outside into the cold. Before she closes the door, she turns, feeling emboldened all of a sudden and leans in, likely giving him a good show of her cleavage. It’s not much by modern standards but she knows it’s all about personal preference.

“Have a good weekend, _sir.”_

She places emphasis on the final word and again, he looks surprised, almost taken aback, his curious eyes widen.

“You too, Miss Kenobi.”

She smiles and closes the door without another word and races to her house, mindful not to go too fast and fall.

Once she’s safely inside, the door bolted and her heels kicked off, she peeps out one of the small windows and notes that he didn’t drive off until he saw with his own eyes that she was inside.

It makes heat bloom throughout her body, all the way from her toes, to the tips of her fingers and right up to her face. 

She tries not to read too much into it.

The rest of the night passes in her usual Friday night fashion. After stripping out of her work clothes and changing into some shorts and a camisole, she eats some leftover noodles before grabbing some crackers and a couple of bottles of wine.

Though it’s an unhealthy habit, she spreads out on her bed and drinks straight from the bottle, watches some reruns of an old black and white sitcom. It’s easy, something she can lose herself in. Every so often, she snatches a cracker and shoves it into her mouth because she believes there is a balance and that somehow it’ll prevent her from feeling hungover the next morning. 

The salty snacks only make her more thirsty. One bottle of wine turns into three in very little time at all. She’s feeling relaxed, so light and warm and she sprawls out on her blanket, her drunken mind finding itself drawn to the memories of Ben. Of his dark eyes and hands, of the heat of his touch and his dirty mouth that spit curses like it was the only language he knew. The only thing that truly spoke to her.

So fluent.

It’s no surprise that she finds her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts and worming their way into her underwear.

She’s _wet._

_So wet._

Wet enough that without any pressure or much manoeuvring, her finger slides between her folds, teasing her hard clit and right into her hot cunt with little resistance.

She whines, arching right off the bed because she only sees him and those fingers she so desperately wants inside of her.

Inside her mouth, gaping her lips and stretching her jaw to test if she could take him _there._

Inside her cunt, opening and stretching her, one finger at the time because she’s tight and he’s big and without his help and not so delicate attentions, she’s not sure she could make him _fit._

In her drunken haze, she grabs her phone with her freehand and googles the man in question and finds a plethora of photoshoots awaiting her. She scrolls, all the while adding another finger.

Because she’s certain two, if not three of hers, make one of his and so she takes it like she’s made for him, rocks just right as she fucks herself.

It’s almost too much, having his eyes on her, even if they’re only photos of him.

She imagines him instructing her, whispering that’s she taking him so well and that he’s going to treat her real good, bend her right over his desk as a reward and fuck her right in front of the window so all of New York can see them and know that she’s his.

She cries out, taking a final look at his image until she can’t take it anymore, she’s needy and wants more. It drops somewhere beside her but she makes use of her other hand. Uses it to pinch her nipple, finding it hard like hours before.

She clamps down on her fingers, using her palm to rub against her pulsing clit with every inward and upward plunging of her fingers. 

There’s three in her now and her hips are rolling like she’s drunk for it and him and not the wine she consumed, maybe she is. 

“Fuck me, Ben, please, I need you!” she moans, not caring how it sounds more like a whine, some pathetic attempt to make them real.

She’s lost her inhibitions so she babbles, uncaring if her neighbours hear her or the creaking of her bed, or how the frame bangs against the wall.

Her toes curl against the sheets.

“Harder,” she pants and she follows her own instructions, still thinking of him being the one telling her to do all of this.

“Oh fuck, Ben, I’m going to come!”

She’s frantic now, curling her fingers upwards until she hits the right spot and does so in time with her palm tapping against her clit.

She comes, moans out his name a final time and nearly cries in relief, it’s all so intense, all of her sensations heightened, her responses purely hedonistic.

She pumps her fingers as she comes down from her high, she’s convulsing inside, like her cunt wants more or to milk something else for all its worth.

She sighs, pulling her fingers out and sucks them clean, too tired to do much else. She’s ready to pass out and sleep her weekend away when she notices the glow of her phone screen.

She’s expecting to see the google home page or a random photo of the boss she just masturbated to but instead she’s met with a call screen with his name on it.

Her breath hitches, seeing the call time’s over ten minutes long.

Her mind is slow to catch up but when she realises he must have heard it all, she hangs up like a coward and screams into her pillow.

She only stops when she hears her phone ping with a new message.

At first, she’s too scared to check it, sure he’s firing her.

Instead, when she pries her eyes open and squints at the screen she sees a message from _him._

_‘Call me.’_


	2. To Be Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been 84 years

_‘Call me.’_

A low buzzing sounds in her ears.

Her mind swims, the room spins and she’s ready for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. If that were to happen, she would nose dive straight into it. Fall into the abyss and be better for it.

She’s fucked.

Both literally and figuratively.

Her fingers are still wet with saliva and leftover traces of her arousal. She can taste herself on her tongue, it’s still drenched with it and the insides of her cheeks taste like the sharp, tart notes of the wine she drank earlier.

It makes an interesting combination, something she’d likely enjoy if the circumstances differed but the weight of what just happened is suffocating and only encourages nausea instead. The slosh of wine and shame roll about in her gut.

A part of her thinks it’s a dream, something she can wake from. Even after she blinks, rubs her eyes and glares once again at the screen.

The words remain, just as bold as ever.

It dawns on her how seriously she’s messed up so she dives under her blankets and buries her face into her pillow. All the while, she has one hand clenching her phone and jabbing the off button like it really makes a difference. As if it erases the last twenty minutes of her life and bleaches the parts of her brain that might recall it.

Avoidance is not a strongpoint of hers but she’ll try. It beats considering reality. The night’s events catch up with her, the alcohol and regret make her heavy so she rolls up into a ball, pointedly ignoring the wetness between her legs and the quiet thrill lingering in her limbs. Ends up chewing her lip to counter it all, a nervous habit that she can’t kick.

It’s not long before she passes out.

When she wakes from her fitful sleep, considerably restless and hungover, she leans towards ignorance. The headache and nausea make that decision for her, she can focus on her dry retching or popping a couple of Advil. If she’s feeling terrible, she can google if a hangover can kill and how much water she should consume to shoo it away.

But that means retrieving her phone from under the mountain of pillows she buried it under and committing to powering it on. So the ritual google search is abandoned and she chugs water until she’s bloated and sweating.

On the tiled floor of her bathroom, feeling gross and with an ever wandering mind, she decides to busy herself. Rey usually prefers a cluttered environment. Organised to some extent, she knows where most things are but some items are lost in piles of books or underneath clothes she’s thrown about.

That weekend sees her scrubbing every surface and cleaning everything in sight. After she cleans her hands and rids herself of the reminders of what she did, she works her fingers to the bone. The smell of white vinegar and lemon clings to her, nature’s finest cleaning supplies.

The only time she stops is to eat and even then it’s just noodles or soup, something easy before she carries on until falling exhausted in a crumbled heap into bed.

It seems to work.

It keeps most of her anxiety and fear at bay until it can’t any longer.

Monday rolls around at breakneck speed and her bubble bursts.

That morning, she takes her time in cleaning herself, scrubbing her skin pink and ensuring her hair is pinned up right. Potentially, she can lose her job after no doubt violating some rule and for acting grossly inappropriately to the owner of the company.

As soon as she enters the office, she knows something’s amiss. It’s almost empty, save for the light coming from beneath Ben’s door.

It’s like a beacon in the otherwise dimly lit office. The only explanation that comes to mind is Ben giving them all a day off due to the adverse weather conditions. Many commuted or travelled from outside the city and he’s mindful of that. It took her long enough to make it in and she lives close.

If this is this case, she wouldn’t know considering her phone’s still turned off and hidden away at the bottom of her purse amongst a bed of tissues and packets of strawberry flavoured gum.

She fumbles with her gloves, tugging until her hands are free. After depositing the gloves in her pocket, she rubs her hands together and decides she can no longer delay the inevitable. Distraction and avoidance are out of the question. It’s not in her nature to bury her head or hide away from her problems, she usually faces them without feeling the need to gather her thoughts.

Ignoring him had been a mistake.

She unbuttons her teal peacoat, rests it on her desk and places her purse upon it. Even from there, she can hear the sound of his desk chair and the telltale creak of him shifting his weight. It’s not hard to imagine that he’s waiting for her, expectant and full of questions.

She heaves in a deep breath and strides towards the door, ignoring the heat in her veins and the hammering of her heart. A second later, she has her hand balled in a fist, ready to knock but before she can tap the rich mahogany, Ben’s voice reaches across the space between them and finds her ears.

“Come in, Rey.”

Though it’s muffled, it sounds more clipped and restrained like he’s talking through clenched teeth. More than anything, it’s like a rumble, so deep and penetrative.

It’s the kind of _deep_ that makes her wish something was _deep_ inside of _her_.

Preferably him and not the fingers she used to get herself off, all the while moaning his name as they were not enough, too slender and short to reach where she needed. The deep he could only find. The sort that would have her feeling him for days and feeling thankful for the experience.

It reminds her of why she’s standing there like a nervous ball of energy, half terrified to face a man who has shown nothing but understanding and kindness to her for years. She shakes off any remaining trepidation, squares her shoulders back and enters, finding him leaning back in his chair, one hand perched on the armrest which serves in propping his chin up with his knuckles.

As soon as he sees her, he nods to himself and she can’t be sure what it means but there’s a shift in the way he’s acting, no traces of warm honey whiskey eyes or a full smile are in sight. It’s unfamiliar, like’s she wading into an unknown territory.

In some way, it’s thrilling.

There’s something different about him, the energy in the room is thick and oppressive and he’s in the middle of it all, sitting there like the sun’s glare but she can’t look away, she doesn’t want to.

“Take a seat.”

The way he says it makes her feel a tug at her conscience, an indescribable pull that moves her feet forward for her. The rational side of her knows she can leave any time she wishes to do so. It also reminds her that she trusts Ben explicitly, he’s never put her in a position that’s made her doubt him before.

Then there’s this quiet voice in her mind, one whisper quiet that jubilates in response to his natural dominance. Submissiveness flows naturally around him, she wants him to tell her what to do, take the reigns and let her slip free of control for a while. Being a passenger is easier to her, following his lead is an extension of those buried feelings inside.

The need to be controlled. To lose and regain it all over again.

It’s with her chin tilted high that she sits across from him, watching him with keen eyes. A few minutes pass as she waits patiently for him to speak but instead he leaves her in silence, tilting his head once. After that simple but telling gesture that leaves her feeling fully exposed and scrutinised, he exhales, making quite a show of dragging the low sound out.

It takes a while but she catches a tell of his. The quiver in his lip is only noticeable for a brief second before he regains composure. Hides any vulnerability away and shadows it, setting his mouth into a firm line that seems forced.

“I gave everyone the day off. I suppose you didn’t see the message.”

That explains the vacant office space. Yet he still occupies his office like any other work day. Business as usual for him. Unless he thought she might show up which admittedly seems plausible.

“No, my phone’s been off all weekend,” she offers weakly, knowing full well it isn’t the complete truth.

“Not all weekend,” he counters, the corner of his mouth lifts, a ghost of a smile plays there.

There is no pretending that all is okay, he knows and with it, she wants to disappear, blink and find herself somewhere new.

He rocks back in his seat, his suit jacket thrown over the top of it. Like Friday, he’s rolled his sleeves to the elbows but she absolutely refuses to gaze at his fingers, the same ones she still wants to feel open her up, slow and gentle so he can be rough about it later.

All the while, he leans forward, standing and plants both of his palms flat on the desk. It leaves very little space between them because his torso takes up a ridiculous amount of space that crowds her in seconds. From her seated position, she can feel his breath on her face, mint and coffee, a weird combination that just works for him and has her longing for a taste.

With just one movement, he makes the room close in, the walls inconsequential. The buttons of his shirt strain, as if they’ll pop any second. It’s almost startling just how large he is. The way he eclipses his surroundings is nothing new, she’s used to seeing him use his size in the corporate world as an edge over the competition. Intimidation is associated with his size and when she compares herself to him, he eclipses her with ease, her petite frame so tiny next to him. He makes her feel small but does so in a way that ensures she’s seen, completely visible and the centre of his vision.

“Isn’t that right?”

There’s no point in lying, she’s caught out.

“Yes.”

He nods again, runs his fingers through his dark hair. His teeth skim his bottom lip when he sucks in a breath.

“I heard everything,” he confesses.

It makes her heart race.

The idea that he heard her cry out his name over and over while he was on the other end of the call, listening just makes the whole experience even more debauched. But she’s shameful. As now she can read the situation and he’s not angry, far from it.

With his words and the implication rooted there, her whole body shivers and coils in anticipation. He’s right there, brazen and unabashed and confronting what she did. He’s doing the exact opposite and opening up in a way he’s never done before. They’re no longer toeing the line, fearful to cross it.

The prospect both excites and terrifies her to the point she’s not sure she can cope.

With bated breath, she stands and nearly stumbles over her feet but she catches herself on the back of her chair. Ben moves too and follows her.

Is it really a game of cat and mouse when she wants to be caught?

“Do you know what it did to me?” He asks, no longer smiling.

By the time she answers, her back’s pressed against the door, she’s run out of places to run and hide.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out.

Then he’s right there having stalked across the room until their bodies are just shying of meeting. She can feel the heat radiating from him.

One of his hands caresses her cheek and she leans into it, a tender comfort she’s not fearful to take for herself.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you,” he whispers, his thumb skims her cheekbone, a ghost of a touch.

The confession shakes her to her core.

The way he said it offers no room for argument. There’s only honesty there, a vulnerability previously unseen in him. The slip of his tongue is next, he drags it along his lower lip, wetting it before he swallows hard.

He waits.

There’s so much she wants to tell him. That he isn’t alone in all of this and that she feels the same, he’s deeply inrooted in most of her waking thoughts.

She opens with her insecurities.

“I didn’t know. I wanted you to want me but you’re my boss, I never put much hope into it,” her voice wavers in the end.

A lifetime of being abandoned and unwanted is to blame for that.

“Rey, it’s just us now.”

The room around them seems to disappear and melts away into a pseudo fever dream. All she feels is hot, desperate for relief when he smiles at her, his full lips finally brush against her own like a sweeping of wildfire ready to burn her whole.

His front rests against her, pinning her once more to the door. That’s when she feels it. The outline of his heavy cock constrained by his tailored pants. She gasps into his mouth and he swallows it, stealing it with a smirk as he noses her hair and lowers his mouth elsewhere, leaving soft kisses on the column of her throat. He soon seeks her pulse point and when he finds it, he runs the flat of his tongue against it. His saliva wets her flesh.

It’s the most erotic thing she’s experienced.

The weight of his large frame swallowing her whole, the feel of his lips when he finally suckles, eager to make her pulse bounce once more or how his dark hair tickles her skin in conjunction with it all.

All she can do is take it, let him consume her how he pleases and that makes her light, her limbs almost useless by the time he cups her breast, kneading it before lightly squeezing and circling his thumb over her nipples.

The pressure makes the fabric of her blouse chafe against it and even if she wanted to, she can’t stop the the sounds that spill right out of her lips or how her hands claw at back. He repeats the action before popping each button with a practiced expertise until she’s bare to him and he can use his mouth somewhere else.

The sensation borders pain and pleasure, his teeth nip and then skim her nipple before he sucks into his mouth and lavishes it with her tongue. He releases it with a wet pop that sounds so much louder in the quiet office where the hum of the lights and his computer are the only competitors.

“Hearing how wet you were, how much you needed me…I wanted you to call me back so I could come to you.”

One hand wraps around her ankle, the action hikes her skirt, exposing her thigh, inch by inch. That leaves more room for him to settle between them, enough so he can drag his covered cock along the crotch of her simple white cotton panties.

He seems to know exactly there to touch, or how to move his hips just right. He’s very much attentive to her clit. Every so often, the thick buckle of his belt grinds against her and she’s ruined. Her eyes roll back into her head with every stroke.

Dry humping her boss in his office just transcends anything she expected to happen.

“I was embarrassed, I was looking at pictures of you and I dropped my phone, I never meant to call you,” she admits and he stands straighter, hoisting her right off her feet as if she weighs absolutely nothing at all.

The action makes her wrap her legs around his waist, no doubt soaking his trousers some more. She’s ruining a designer suit, staining his crotch like’s she laying claim to him. By that time, her shoes have slipped from her feet so she digs her heels into the muscle of his ass, encouraging him in a voiceless manner.

Now eye-level, he kisses her again and this time, he’s not gentle about it. It’s desperate. The clashing of teeth, so fierce and the nipping of lips.

“What a happy little accident,” he groans, his hands grappling her hips so he can move her in anyway he desires, like a feather in the wind, she floats and he directs.

He’s giving her a taste of what she can expect from him, she knows this so she buries her face into his neck and moves her hips in time with his own. In time, they find their rhythm, they work so well together.

At some point, there’s a sound that signals a tear in her skirt, the harsh rip of seams coming undone but neither cares, he only presses her against the door and humps against her, rutting unceasingly. He’s taking all he needs but giving so much in return.

“If I message you again and ask you to call, will you do it? Will you be ready for me like you were the other night?” He asks, breathless.

She nods frantically, tightening her hold on him. The muscles in her legs are burning and she’s sure he’s leaving bruise on her hips and sucking pretty marks into her skin. She wants them all.

“Use your words, Rey,” he pants, rolling his hips a final time.

“Yes!”

His covered cock hits her just right and she comes, greedy for another as she rides her high. It’s not enough.

Ben follows soon after but doesn’t let her down until he sees fit. He falls against her, leaving sloppy kisses on her bare chest like he’s worshipping her.

She’s made a mess of him and he’s done the same to her.

He lowers her down and she stands on wobbly legs, still feeling the rush of her orgasm.

He’s flushed red, his cheeks filled with colour.

“I’ll drive you home,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Yes, she decides then and there, she’s really fucked.

* * *

It’s dark out by the time she hears the trill ping of her text tone. Only the faint, golden amber hue from the streetlights saturating through her plum curtains lights her bedroom. There’s a gap between the two sheets of heavy fabric and from that, the snow casts flickering shadows inside and it’s so quiet, even the wind outside feels like a whisper.

She’s sprawled against her cushions, her blankets tossed aside hours ago. Goosebumps pebble her flesh, aside from her panties, she’s bare. Even now, she squirms, the anticipation lighting up her veins like live wires. She’s hot. An odd but understandable contrast to the cold front just outside. Inside, she’s warm, wet and practically panting in anticipation, living in the memories of that morning when he touched her and made his feelings and intentions crystal clear.

He wants her.

It’s a concept she’s not used to but she makes peace with it because it feels right, the two of them.

Despite her having been expecting the text ever since she made it home, it still makes her jump.

This time, there’s desperation in her actions. Instead of hiding and screaming into the pillow for all the wrong reasons, she snatches her phone from beside her and reads the message.

_‘Call me.’_

There’s no hesitation.

With just a few clicks and drag of her thumb, the phone’s pressed to her ear and the ringing makes her swallow hard, knowing of what’s to come.

He answers on the third ring.

“You called,” is how he opens the conversation.

“I said I would,” she pushes back, eager for more, needy to move past speculation and trivial chatter that consumes the time they have together.

“You did, I’ll give you that. Are you ready like you said you would be?”

“Yes.”

After what seems like hours, she spreads her legs and lets her knees drop to the mattress. It almost hurts, the way she’s so open, splayed that way as if he were there and needed all the space she could muster so he could fit and make himself comfortable.

He hums in appreciation.

The sound slips under her skin, blazes a trail right to the wet heat between her legs. She imagines it straight from source, of his lips pressed against her, wherever he wanted and how that vibration would eat her alive until she was limp before him.

Since he’s across the city, she makes do and sends her fingers downwards, the tips skim the soft plane of her stomach and then roam lower. The waistband of her panties is flimsy and light, worn from overuse so it’s no trouble to slide right under the elastic.

There, she runs her fingers through the thatch of coarse hair. Neat and trimmed, she keeps all other areas free of her hair, her folds freshly shaved and soft to the touch. It’s all about preference but she imagines Ben would like it. How his fingers, tongue, lips and nose would feel as he tasted her.

Just as her middle finger reaches lower, his voice brings her back.

“I want you to listen to me.”

“I am,” she mumbles, breathless, so pent up that her toes curl into the sheets and she nearly whines.

“No, I don’t think you understand. Last weekend, I listened to you. I was so close and you never called me. Now, I want you to listen to me and not touch yourself unless I ask you to, I think that’s fair.”

“Ben…please.”

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I’ll make it all about you but tonight is about me. Is that okay, sweetheart?”

In a way, she understands. It’s not hard to conjure up images of him hearing her cry out his name and then being ignored for the weekend. If it were the other way round, she would not know how to feel. Rejected, maybe. She wants to give him this.

“Yes, I’ll do it, let me hear you,” she whispers.

The sound of his zipper comes through the phone.

It occurs to her that he’s still dressed in his work clothes, too impatient to wait any longer before he fisted his cock so he can find a release that he has been begging for since her accidental call.

She bets his tie’s loose with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, revealing hard pectorals and a light sheen of sweat despite the weather. If’s he anything like her, he runs hot, just as she remembers him from earlier, with skin so hot that it could sear her alive.

“I wanted you from the first time I saw you,” he admits lowly. He hisses at the end and she presumes by then, he’s taken his cock in hand with a less than gentle touch.

“I wanted you too.”

“I wish I’d known. I tried so fucking hard to keep things professional around you but fuck, Rey, you in your tiny skirts and heels that make your legs go on for days. I thought so much about bending you over my desk or keeping you under it so you could suck me off until all you could taste was me, only me.”

He’s filthy and she’s falling, because she’s fantasised and thought up the same scenarios, of taking him in her mouth as he sees to business or talks to clients on the phone. Of how much she could push him over the edge with the curling of her tongue or drag of her teeth against his cock.

Though she understands he does not want her to touch herself, she still runs her wet fingers over her hips and up to her breast, circling her nipple before she squeezes it with her forefinger and thumb. It’s something and she has to bite her lip to ensure she doesn’t give herself away, although she would love to see how he would punish her if he thought she was straying from his wish.

Maybe she wants to test him.

Still, she refrains and makes do with pressing her thighs together, squirming amongst the sheets.

“I’d let you, Ben, I’ve wanted you just as long.”

She hears him spit and groan, as if he needs wetness around his cock because his palm will never be enough, he needs to bury it in her and do so until they are both sated.

“I’d sit under your desk all day and suck your cock for as long as you wanted,” she murmurs, feeling wetter than ever. If he were there with her, he’d slide in with no trouble, fill her right up without need for foreplay.

She wants it to hurt, that stretch of him finally making her whole.

“I’d fuck your mouth so good. I’d make you gag on it and kiss your pretty lips after you swallowed my come,” he grunts and she’s sure she can hear the jingle of his Rolex hitting his wrist with every stroke. If that is something to go by, he’s working himself, hard and keeping a ruthless pace.

“I want it all.”

“I’ll give you everything, Rey, tomorrow I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll have no choice but to sit on my lap for the rest of the week. I’d carry you around if I had to.”

The image near enough sends her over the edge and she wants to beg for him to let her touch herself, it’ll not take too long.

“I can still taste you from earlier. Your lips, your tits but I want more, I want to taste everywhere. I want to bury my face between your legs and never come out again, I bet you’ve got such a pretty cunt. Why don’t you give her some attention, I want to know just how wet you are.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, her fingers move on their own accord, grasping her panties and pulling them down to her knees so she can touch herself without an obstacle.

As soon as she presses two fingers inside, she almost jolts upwards, arching her back in response.

“Fuck,” she cries out.

The relief is immediate, her clit’s pulsing so she makes sure to give it attention, using her thumb to circle it.

“Rey…”

She suddenly remembers why he wanted her to touch herself.

She’s desperate by the time she puts her phone on loudspeaker and lowers it between her legs.

She pumps her fingers inside her cunt in a steady rhythm, rocking her hips to meet them.

The sounds are obscene.

She knows he hears, because after only a few more seconds, he’s exhaling harshly.

“So wet, I’m not going to last, come Rey, come for me.”

And she does just that, already so on edge and painfully sensitive, she tumbles over the edge.

Lets everything slip away and focuses entirely on sensation and pleasure.

It doesn’t take long for her to get there.

“I’m going to-“

“I’m coming-“

They do so in unison.

Rey’s spent and struggles to heave in much needed breaths, feeling sweat and slick cling to her body.

It’s quiet for a while, she listens to him adjust, muttering under his breath and the chuckle that follows.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Kenobi, bright and early.”

“Yes sir,” she laughs out, breathless.

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am **so** sorry for the wait.
> 
> I got some stage fright, especially as this is a new style of writing and I suck at writing smut etc blah blah 🙈
> 
> Smut in the next with a cheeky epilogue chapter to end in the fourth.
> 
> I will be replying to all your comments on the first chapter tomorrow as well as this one 🖤


	3. Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now, you all know how I feel about writing smut. I am not sure how I feel about it but I hope you enjoy 🖤

It’s no surprise that she sleeps well that night. 

Even though the excitement about the day ahead keeps her up for some time, long after she ended the call, she was sated and heavy. Her mind overrun by sensation and revelation. 

When she wakes, it’s still dark and well before her alarm’s due to sound out but she’s not tired, not one bit.

For the first time in a long time, there’s something coaxing her out from the warmth and comfort of her bed. The California King Size topped with a mountain of colourful knitted blankets and a seemingly endless supply of decorative pillows.

Before sunrise, she practically throws herself out of bed and dashes towards the bathroom, ignoring how cold it is. Within a few seconds, she’s standing under the shower head and scrubbing every inch of skin until she’s pink. The scent of rosy soap fills the small space and envelops her. It’s soothing. Since she’s awake so early, she takes her time shaving her legs, armpits and between her legs, opting to leave the small thatch of hair on her mound untouched.

Suds and soap bubbles slip from her skin, her slender fingers massage shampoo into her scalp and the rest is washed away by the steady flow of hot water. During it all, she makes sure not to let her hands linger on any spot too much, she’s sensitive and keyed up but if she finds a release now, she’s sure she’ll regret it later.

Prior to leaving the house, she brushed her teeth twice and dressed in one of her shortest pencil skirts, a slate grey piece of fabric with pin stripes. Knowing Ben possessed a fondness for the colour red, she made sure to wear one of her new underwear sets from Victoria Secret. Usually she wouldn’t indulge in things like it but Rose bought her a gift card for her birthday and so she treated herself to the expensive pieces. Tiny flimsy garments made up of satin and silk with mesh panelling, adorned with floral patterned stitching. Feminine but not overly so, bold in ways her usual cotton briefs aren’t. Sexy, even.

The walk to work is simple enough. The snow let up considerably so the paths aren’t too hard to navigate. In the elevator ride to the top floor, her stomach is in knots. It’s not easy to pretend it’s another mundane work day, the same routine she’s been following for years.

She briefly wonders if Ben faced the same dilemma in the confined space, knowing everything has changed and with each floor cleared, indicated by the red LED light would lead him closer to seeing her again. 

Maybe she’s putting more weight into it. But the way he dragged his cock against her panty covered cunt or confessed his fantasies as he took himself in hand makes her think otherwise.

There’s no denying what’s between them.

They’ve only just indulged themselves and let that dam burst after years of just wanting and watching in silence. It’s something she wants to fully immerse herself in, drown if need be. 

Sink with him.

Let him sink inside of _her._

Being the only occupant in the elevator is a blessing considering she has to lean against the back wall for support at the mere thought of that. 

When the elevator stills and the doors open with a ping, she braces herself, exhales and then strolls into the office like she’s not thinking of her boss stuffing his cock in her mouth and making good on his promise to make today all about her. 

The top floor is mostly empty. It’s reserved for Ben’s office and houses a few cubicles but other than that, it’s quiet. Finn and Rose work with their eyes on their screens but greet her as she passes them by. If only they knew. That just a few feet from their desks, Ben had her pinned against his door and ravaged her.

Her cheeks flame.

By the time she’s all set at her own desk sipping her green tea and scrolling through her emails, she feels a pair of eyes on her. It makes her squirm and shift her weight about but a part of her wants to play coy and make him work for it. 

She relaxes, straightens her back and picks up one of her pens. Then proceeds to run it along the seam of her lips. It’s his trick. The act that draws her attention in board meetings and has her thinking of ways she can put his lips to better use.

Now that’s she felt him, tasted him, she wants more. 

It’s only a minute or so later when her phone buzzes across her desk. Without looking she knows who it is and because she’s feeling playful and defiant, she pointedly ignores it and focuses on some menial task that doesn’t really require much time or attention. Usually she’s attentive and loses herself in her work so it’s not hard to do so, even when she feels that she’s the centre of someone’s focus. 

There’s something about feeling in control when she’s usually submissive, quick to relinquish responsibility to feel free for a second. Which is odd, she acknowledges that, to feel freedom at the mercy of another but she still flies high. That rush simmers below her skin now, clawing for release and attention.

It’s impossible to ignore the new email that pops up across her screen. 

_‘I’d appreciate it if you would check your phone, Miss Kenobi.’_

That prompts her to swivel in her seat so she can eye him. There, she finds him staring right at her. He’s reclining in his seat, using his heel to keep himself steady, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

How he manages to keep his expression in check, she’ll never know but she’s the first to look away so she can check her phone.

The message is short and simple.

_‘I can’t wait to taste your cunt.’_

Blunt and simple, he’s crass and unapologetic. 

The words hit her in an instant. What little concentration she clung to earlier dissolves and she wants to curse herself for being so responsive to him. Like a puppet at the end of a string. He knows just how to pull her taut and make her loose all at once.

She clenches nothing, feeling heat pool in her belly and lower. Of course she can find some relief but she knows it’ll not be enough, not when she’s aware of what’s going to happen and how he’ll fill her and do so in a way that she’s ruined for any other. She’s likely already in that headspace, she can’t imagine wanting anyone as much as she desires him. 

It’s not just physical attraction, even if that’s the root of which all of it stemmed from. Pleasure is something she’s not willing to shy away from, not when it involves him. 

Rose and Finn are still engrossed in their own work. The sounds of keyboard clicks and the hum of the heater are all to be heard. Since her desk faces Ben’s office, she’s shielded from the others. The partition wall design is something she’s thankful for as it allows some semblance of privacy. Enough for her to slide her fingers along the seam of her stockings, she follows the stitching and parts her legs just enough so she can feel the crotch of her panties.

It’s no surprise that she’s wet, practically drenched. It takes all of her restraint not to moan aloud, all open mouthed and slack jawed and needy for him. Feeling more emboldened than ever, she nudges her fingers inside, studying his reaction with rapt interest. The way he balls his hands into fists lets her know he can see exactly what she’s doing. 

When her fingertips brush her entrance, she knows it’s enough, they’re already soaked so she brings them up to her lips, so slow, and then sucks them into her mouth. Shallow at first. Just to test him. She likes the way she tastes and doesn’t hide the fact, letting her eyes roll into the back of her head for a fleeting second because she doesn’t want to miss his reaction.

He’s standing now, his body pressed against the window of his office. She simply shrugs, acting clueless and flicks her tongue along her bottom lip. Once she’s sure her fingers are completely clean, she types back her reply.

_‘I’m ready when you are, Mr Solo.’_

Seeing him flustered is something new, like a power trip she doesn’t want to come down from. It’s likely that high that makes her tear her gaze away and resume her work, only to find they are due in a board meeting in five minutes. 

Usually she struggles to stay awake during them but she presumes it’ll be no problem today. The sound of a door closing makes her stand and push away from her desk. Ben’s waiting for her with an expression she can’t quite read.

They walk in silence, nodding to Finn and Rose in passing. Once they clear them and round the corner, she’s pressed against the wall, caged in by him just like she was the day before. Except this time it seems more desperate, if that’s even possible. It near enough steals her breath away with the unexpectedness of it.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to drag you into my office and bury my tongue in your cunt. Was that what you wanted?”

Before she can answer, he’s cupping her face and pressing his lips against hers. It’s not long before he slides his tongue into her mouth. Hungry, she imagines this is what it’s like to be devoured. These are the touches of a man positively starved.

“I can taste you,” he murmurs, pulling away with a smirk. 

The elevator pings and out strolls Alistair Snoke, accompanied by Armitage Hux and Gwen Phasma. The interruption is her chance to breathe again and they part as if burned. The others don’t seem to notice, their eyes are glued to their phones so it’s only a matter of falling into step with them. 

Ben seems more than frustrated, if they happened to look at him, they would see his hard cock straining against the confines of his pants. But no one bothers, only her. She mulls it over. She knows all about waiting but with this, she’s impatient, her insides practically gnawing and craving nothing but touch and sensation.

When they’re seated in the conference room, a large but almost vacant space with glass walls and a rectangular chrome desk, Ben exhales, drumming his fingers along the surface.

The way he slips into boss mode is captivating. Though these people are some of his most important investors, he knows of their shady business tactics and desire for a slice of his power and success. 

“Let’s make this quick, I’m sure we’d all like to get back to work,” he states lowly, eyeing her before turning his attention to Snoke who nods in agreement.

“Of course.”

Snoke begins to list figures and potential routes for lucrative investment and expansion. Normally she’s diligent in her note taking but Gwen’s rapid fire and systematic minutes will suffice this time. Which means she has time to let her mind wander.

Time drones on and she grows antsy. 

A wicked thought enters her mind, she hides her smirk behind her knuckles. Everyone else is distracted enough so none notice her slipping one of her feet from her high heel. Ben sits directly opposite her, engrossed with a series of booklets in front of him as Snoke prattles on. His voice little more than a raspy wheeze of a man who chain smoked cigars since his teens. The piercing shallow blue of his eyes briefly appraise her when she shifts in her seat but other than that, he pays her no mind. 

Ever since she set foot into the building, there’s been tension between them and she’s still not entirely sure the root of it all. Maybe it was the fact that she had Ben’s ear. He spoke freely around her and confided in her and she presumed he once did that with Snoke. There’s definitely a rift there and she’s glad for it.

For once, she’s glad for the invisibility and ability to blend into the furniture in the eyes of their present company. It’s why she takes the chance to skim her foot across the hardwood flooring, toes pointing towards Ben. Soon enough, they brush his calf and almost immediately, he jolts in his seat.

Snoke pauses.

“Carry on,” Ben says, eyes fixed on her.

By the look in them, the way his iris’s bleed into his pupils, she can tell she’s playing with fire, stoking kindle and if she’s not careful, she’ll be burned.

The muscle under his eye twitches when she grazes higher. A blotch of colour stains his cheeks and his knuckles whiten as his fingers dig into the armrests of his chair. It makes her feel powerful, invoking such a reaction with very little effort on her part. Is this what he feels like all of the time? A rush. A power play. The superiority and craving for more. To take and take and take what’s willingly offered. He clears his throat, the bob of his Adam’s apple something to focus on.

Snoke pauses but only does so momentarily before he continues, just as her toes make contact with the crotch of his pants. It’s no real shock that she finds him ready for her, his cock still hard and no doubt aching for a release of any kind. An itch that needs scratched until he can get his hands on her and fuck her senseless. The day before had been enlightening in many ways but the one confronting her presently is the fact that she’s sure he will fill her too much, he’s big. Likely bigger than any she’s taken before. The promise of the stretch makes her breath hitch. The sole of her foot trails the length of it and she swallows hard. 

Ben is no longer surprised but amused, presumably smug about his size and she can’t blame him. He has the audacity to quirk his brow at her as if in challenge and though she knows he’ll give as good as he gets, she rises to it. It’s not in her nature to shy away. 

The way she does it is by exploring, taking her time to press her toes against his cock. Even through the fabric she can feel just how warm he is and whenever she touches a particularly sensitive spot, he pulses and twitches. It makes her spread her toes on that particular area and apply some more pressure in slow circular motions. 

Ben stutters through a reply, gripping his pen in his fist with clenched teeth.

Hux and Phasma look up from their own papers and eye him curiously but he recovers well. After a sip of water, Snoke is the one to continue and Ben appears flustered for the first time. His eyes are shifty and he moves his hips ever so slowly and presses his cock against the arch of her foot. 

The tables have turned.

He’s actively pursuing the pleasure she can provide and does it all with three other people present. They’re one slip away from detection and that thrill warms her all over. The basic part of her wants them all to know who she belongs to. As she knows he will likely have her over the desk whether they’re there or not.

Ben grows bolder, adjusting his lower half in his seat and planting one hand on his leg. He doesn’t even flinch when his fingers curl around her foot, trapping it in his grasp. Unlike him, Rey does react, quickly covering a gasp with the palm of her hand. Ben smiles like the cat who got the cream.

It feels as if all the air has left the room. A tunnel vision of sorts as all she can see and feel is him. The press of his thumb against the arch of her foot as he massages it with no thought about being gentle. It makes her toes curl and her heart race. A wild beat that fills her ears and carries wet heat between her legs. 

What he does next takes her by surprise. With little consideration for their audience, he guides her foot along the length of his cock, slowly at first. With him dictating the pressure and pace, he’s in control once again but it feels so right. The friction is enough to make her shiver, the sole of her foot is incredibly sensitive, each movement makes her squirm. If the pleasure is like this for her, she can only imagine what it’s doing to him.

Unsure of what to focus on, she trains her eyes on the way his lips gape whenever her heel nudges his cock head. The urge to dip two fingers into her cunt is near irresistible. Just imagining how his full lips and tongue would lick and suck until she couldn’t take anymore is enough to drive her wild.

It seems as if Ben is on the same boat.

He releases her foot.

“Gwen, perhaps you can send me detailed notes on the account. I’m afraid I need to cut this meeting short, I’m booked in for a video conference in ten minutes. Thank you for all for your time.”

The sneer on Snoke’s face makes it all worth it. The man grows red in the cheeks at the interruption and dismissal, they were supposed to meet with them for at least another hour. 

Gwen and Armitage are less fussed and nod politely as they gather up their files and pens. Snoke is reluctant and takes his time, glancing between Ben and Rey. She’s not quite sure how she manages to remain calm and composed but Snoke makes a point to glare at her before he leaves the room like he’s running from the tail-end of a storm.

They’re alone.

Ben strides across the room and lowers the blinds with a quick manoeuvring of the string. They snap shut and Rey stands, back ram rod straight. The way he tugs at his tie until its loose and palms himself through his pants makes her follow every movement. The way he moves is slow and precise, every touch pronounced.

“On your knees,” he murmurs when he takes his seat behind the desk in the corner of the room.

There’s no time for thought, she just follows orders and does so readily, closing her eyes briefly when her knees touch down on the floor. 

“Now crawl under the desk. You’ve wanted to suck my big cock for a while, it’s yours, sweetheart. You just need to take it.”

It will be no easy task to take him, even after she works him and herself but her whole body flushes. The idea of tasting him is what moves her forward, she plants her hands on the floor and crawls, making sure to shimmy and rotate her hips as she does so, something to entice and excite him.

All the while, Ben looks on. His fingers fumble with his belt until its open. The sound of his zip makes her swallow, wetting her lips. By the time she reaches the desk, he’s fisting his cock and pumping it in his fist. She settles under the desk and watches memorised for a while, eyeing the veins that run the length of it. 

He’s bigger than she expected. 

Much bigger.

“You can take it,” he encourages, eyes half lidded and teeth embedded in his lower lip. 

Ben releases his cock and brushes his fingertips along the seam of her lips, spurring her to open them and let him in. She does. The thick digits are soon covered in saliva and he works them in and out of her mouth, shallow and deep, spreading them whenever she closes her mouth. Other times, they nearly reach the back of her throat and she swallows a gag. 

“Nice and wide, yes, I’ll fit.”

She believes him, even when he withdraws and fills her mouth with something else.

He’s warm, so hot and the taste of him is something she’s sure she’ll always crave, clean and salty, something inherently him. 

She hums around the head, suckling it and uses her hand to encircle the base of it, giving her some control. 

Ben hisses and mutters out a curse when she finds her rhythm. She makes sure to keep her teeth covered and her tongue firm and pressing, circling and coating any inch of him that it passes. It’s a struggle to work him fully, he’s just so thick and when he begins to move his hips, fucking right into her throat, she gags around him. She digs her nails into his thigh and bobs right up, gasping before she swallows him again, feeling him pulse and twitch against her tongue and cheeks.

“Fuck, Rey,” Ben moans, fisting her hair.

It’s effortless losing herself to the task. The repetition and action calming. Saliva dribbles down his cock but she puts it to good use, coating whatever she can’t cover with her mouth with her slicked palm and squeezes him.

This prompts him to fist her hair, gathering it up and away from her face.

His grip toes the border of pleasure and pain, his fingers tugging at her hair until it almost burns her scalp. But she’s just as responsive, each tug makes her moan and she can only imagine the pleasure he feels from that in conjunction with everything else. The vibrations rumble. To further the experience, she ensures it’s messy, lets her mouth hang open with trails of drool and pre-cum leaking from it. 

“You look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock, Rey,” Ben manages to grit out, just as she skims her teeth along the thickest vein in his cock, applying more and more pressure in hopes that the light grazing satisfies him.

It does, if the strangled moan and tightening hold on her hair is anything to go by. With her freehand, she skims it along her front in hopes of some relief. There’s no time to stop and rid herself of her underwear or clothes so she makes do with pushing the crotch of her satin panties to the side and runs her fingertips along her slit.

She chokes around his cock, surprised by how wet she is. 

It’s saturated the fabric, it clings to her like a damp second skin and she’s certain she’s never been this wet, not even by her own practiced hands. It’s a testament to just how much she wants him, just the taste and feel of his cock in her mouth is enough to trigger wet heat that leaves her cunt ripe and open, greedy for a filling.

With a slight rotation of her hips, she manages to slide two fingers inside, all the while using her thumb to pay attention to her hard clit. She jolts when she makes contract with it, long neglected and hypersensitive. It feels divine, the kind of pleasure that makes her limbs light and head dizzy. Or that could be from the fact she’s limiting her oxygen intake and near starving herself of it in favour of sucking his cock with all her might. When she does remember to breathe through her nose, it’s always accompanied by an open-mouthed gasp that makes Ben lift his hips.

Seeing him come undone is like a dream. 

There’s no remnants of the suave, professional boss she knows, not when he’s guiding her further down his cock or sweating from her efforts as curses fall fast and freely from his parted lips. 

The opening of a door makes her still.

Ben rips his hand out of her hair and moves forward in his seat, essentially caging her under the desk. Her back hits the wood with a muffled thud.

“Mr Snoke wanted me to run through the notes of the final proposal with you in person,” Hux says as way of greeting.

Ben sighs, exhaling harshly through his nose.

“Now is not very convenient, Armitage.”

“We can’t wait any longer with this client, Thrawn has shown interest and offered a bid.”

Rey zones out, unconcerned with the minute details of work beyond her job description. Ben does respond and is receptive to the conversation. The shuffling of papers and muffled voices are confirmation of that.

The idea of waiting any longer makes her pout in her cramped hiding place. After she sucks her fingers clean and rights her blouse, she zones in on Ben’s thighs. Even when he sits forward, he keeps them spread, as any man with long legs would. 

It makes for a wonderful challenge.

The hurry of righting himself means his cock is still out and with little thought, she palms it. Ben’s knee knocks the desk and she smiles to herself, satisfied with his reaction. His cock is heavy in her grasp, still wet and she doesn’t hesitate to suck him in. This time she’s sure to be quiet, knowing that Hux is standing just a few feet away.

It’s a thrill.

She takes her time to appreciate him, lifting off and flattening her tongue around the base and making her way upwards. 

To lay her claim there, she traces her name along the length of him.

R-E-Y

To cement it, she repeats it time and time again, loving how he twitches when she reaches the head. That’s more than responsive and she takes full of advantage of it. Mouthing it with special care, she suckles and then slaps it against her tongue. She does this several times, just to add more sensation.

She can feel he’s close and the way he places his foot between her thighs nudging her cunt feels like a warning. To stop or continue, she’s not sure but goes with her gut and pumps him, still amazed by how little he makes her hand look.

“Hux, I really need to call a client, I’m late enough as it is,” Ben sounds choked up, as if he’s straining to conceal what’s going on between his legs.

“Fine. Please remember that this matter’s imperative to the new contracts.”

“Of course,” Ben grits out.

Hux’s footsteps and the sound of a door closing follows.

After that, things speed up.

Ben pushes away from the desk and stands.

“Do you know how close we were to getting caught?” He asks, squatting so he’s eye level with her.

Rey tries not to smirk and plays innocent. She licks her lips.

“Were we, Mr Solo?”

“I think I preferred your smart mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Before she can formulate a witty reply, his hands are on her. He pulls her out from under the desk as if she weighs nothing, he shows no signs of strain. Instead, he sets her down on the desk and nudges her legs apart, settling between them.

He tilts her chin up with one finger so she can look him in the eye. 

“My turn.”

There’s no telling how many times she’s imagined his mouth on her. It’s pretty obscene if she really thinks about it. But now’s not the time to think, now’s the time to feel and do so thoroughly. She wants to feel him for days, the imprints of his fingers on her hips, the slow drag of his tongue against her own and the sweet ache she knows will follow her when he finally fucks her. She’s sure she will always feel empty, so hollow without him.

Despite their mutual eagerness and want, Ben takes his time with her. He sits with deliberate slowness, like a hunter closing in on their prey, all eagle eyed and graceful despite the tension between them. With special care, he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. 

With her legs splayed and skirt riding up her thighs, she feels more exposed than ever. He handles her carefully, his fingers curl around one ankle and lifts it, treating her all delicate as he removes both of her shoes, leaving her in her stockings. He presses a kiss to the little indent of her ankle and hums.

Rey relaxes, leaning back on her elbows and tries to control her breathing, the excitement makes it near impossible and Ben seems to enjoy that. It’s slow, the way his mouth descends up her calves and thighs. Each wet, open mouthed kiss drives her wild, the kind that makes her want to trap him and guide his mouth to where she wants it the most. Soft moans and gasps fill the quiet space, she’s writhing, rolling her hips as a way to beg for more without the use of words, just basic movements.

“Good things come to those who wait,” Ben murmurs, looking her directly in the eye as he presses a long finger against the crotch of her panties.

She can’t look away, not even if she wanted to but he does, suddenly transfixed by something else. His fingertips pull her panties to the side and his whole body heaves with an intake of breath.

“Such a pretty cunt.”

The way he looks at it should make her feel self conscious. No one has really bothered to pay much attention to it, all of her previous partners were more concerned with their own pleasure and that usually meant her own was an afterthought or forgotten completely.

But Ben’s different. 

He can take take take but he’s a giver, she knows this and when he does give, he gives it his all. 

The nudge of his nose against her clit makes her shift, almost running from it due to the intensity and her hands tighten into fists. Her sensitively and responsiveness to him is otherworldly, he breathes her in and appreciates her in earnest.

He pulls back and she mourns his presence, but only for a second. His pupils are blown and he looks positively ravenous, like he’ll eat her up and she’ll thank him for the experience. 

It’s electric.

Big hands tug at her panties, pulling them down her legs. The same hands hike her skirt up until her lower half is bare and on show but just for him.

“Please,” she manages to breathe out.

“You never have to ask.”

The first feel of his tongue is heavenly. 

His lips mouth at her clit, slowly, reverently. Tender at first until he can’t restrain himself any more. The wet sounds and hums of appreciation go straight to her head and she feels powerful and powerless all at once.

She falls back on the desk, her back flat against its surface top and loses herself. 

It’s as if he was made to eat her cunt, that it’s his sole purpose on earth, the magnetism and draw just too hard to resist but the clash is worth it, it’s stunning.

Hearing just how wet she is only adds to the whole experience, the wet squelch of him parting her lips with his thumb makes her shake, he knows exactly where to touch and how to move her. His finger teases her entrance and she was right all along. They are most definitely almost too thick.

“Think you can take my fingers?” He asks and all she can do is nod and run her foot along his back as a way of encouragement. 

“Yes,” she says.

The sound that leaves her when he works just one in is unlike anything human sounding.

It’s a mix between a moan and a wail. The relief is satisfying, the stretch worth it. There’s finally something to cling to, she clenches around his finger and ushers him inwards, already needy for more. 

The combination of his mouth and tongue on her clit and the finger pumping inside of her is nearly enough to undo her. When he adds another, she squeezes it just as greedily and groans, pinching her nipples through her blouse. 

Even though her thighs shake and quiver like a newborn foal trying to stand so soon after birth, she manages to cage him in a suffocating hold and grind her cunt against his face. It’s her time to take. Ben revels it, she can tell, he grips her thigh with one hand for support and moves like her, a desperate, hungry dance that shows no sign of stopping.

“You taste so good, I want to do this every day,” he mumbles in between ministrations. 

“Please,” she cries out, arching her back, the change in position only benefits her and aids in keeping him where she wants him the most.

She’ll hold him to it, make him go down on his knees morning or night and give him exactly what he wants while she reaps the rewards. It’s an itch she’ll always want scratched and solely by him.

After that, she loses track of time.

He’s relentless.

There’s no signs of him ever stopping, he fingers reach places she has never been able to touch herself and curve and curl in the most satisfying ways. It’s like he’s mapping her from the inside out and committing it to memory so he can work her like no other, take hold of her pleasure and give it in abundance. 

She can’t tell for certain but she thinks he traces his name on her clit, just as she did with her own name on his cock. The thought that he feels the connection and possessiveness of it warms her further. Her fingers find his hair and tug, holding on for dear life.

Ben eats her cunt like it’s his last bit of sustenance on earth. He doesn’t just use his tongue and mouth, he takes advantage of his long nose and chin by pushing and pressing them against the most responsive parts of her. It’s messy. When she does manage to gaze between her legs, she finds him flushed, his entire face soaked by her.

And Ben only smirks and sucks some more, his cheeks hollowing before his mouth leaves her clit and does so with a loud, wet pop that makes her body shudder. His eyes never leave her own, a challenge and dare for her to withstand the weight of his stare. It makes her tremble so more.

When he adds a third finger, she’s done for.

So full, the grind of his knuckles against the spot that ruins her throws her over the edge, every move so deliberate and precise but not lacking an impact.

“Come for me, Rey so I can put my cock in you,” he demands, nudging her clit persistently, his tongue inescapable. 

Even though at times she tries to break free of his hold, the pleasure too much, her attempts are weak and half hearted, quieted by a firm press of his palm against her navel.

And with those words, she does that, unable to stop the inevitable. The build up is almost too much, she’s coiled tight one moment and limp the next, panting and crying out his name over and over as she spasms, her cunt fluttering in a pretty rhythm on his thick, nimble fingers.

She comes and feels herself do something she’s never done before. A gush of wetness leaves her, right onto Ben’s fingers and chin and for a brief moment she feels shame, hiding her eyes with her forearms.

“Fuck, Rey, I knew I’d make you squirt,” Ben says, voice all hoarse, laced with ample awe and pride.

The embarrassment quickly dissipates when she sees him. His hand covers his face, wiping away some of her arousal while his tongue darts out and clears his lips. He stares down at his hand like he’s discovered fire for the first time before sucking his fingers clean. He relishes in the act, his plump, slightly swollen lips make ease of it.

Rey’s jaw opens almost too wide at the sight.

His eyes roll in the back of his head and he moans, already tugging his trousers down just a fraction to free his cock, already hard again. 

“Can I fuck you, Rey? I’ll make you feel so good,” he promises, fisting his cock.

As if she could deny him.

She’s still light, limbs almost weightless when he moves forward, swarming her. Likely in an effort to tease her just a little more, he slaps his cock against her clit, coaxing another moan from her and waits, ready to pounce.

Due to all his attention and loving affection, she’s open and ready to take him. Just to make sure, she spreads her legs as far as she can, enjoying the burn of muscles long unused and tested before wrapping her fingers around his cock. Ben hisses, planting his palms on the desk beside her head. This way, he’s hovering above her, breathing heavy and eyes locked with her own.

It’s a vulnerable moment, despite how confident they both are. It’s the start of something more, a shared, dark desire years in the making. 

Despite the sense of passion underlying their relationship, it’s not entirely based on that. It’s not purely physical, she’s drawn in by his intelligence and caring nature that very few get to see. It makes her yearn for more, waking up beside him on cold winter mornings and swimming in the summer. The good and the bad, she wants it all.

“Yes, Ben, I want you,” she whispers, allowing him to take the lead.

Their lips touch when he pushes in.

The way he eases in is like sweet torture. 

With their size difference, it’s a stretch, his cock sinks in like she was made just for him but it’s a tight squeeze. The act snatches the breath right out of both of them. When he eventually bottoms out, she can’t help but look downwards to where they’re joined, struck silent that he’s all the way inside. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his knuckles along her cheekbone with delicate precision.

By way of reply, she paws at his chest and fingers the front of his shirt with greedy fingers, pulling him impossibly closer and deeper so she can feel his weight on her. It’s easy then to crush a kiss to his lips and dig her nails into the hard muscle lining his shoulders. She pulls back, teeth grazing and tugging at his bottom lip before she does so.

“Show me how perfect you think I am.”

The silence that follows is filled with challenge and expectancy, she wants him riled and bursting with the need to please. All the promises of him fucking her good cloud her mind and now she’s wild for it.

Instead of answering, he draws back, his cock nearly leaving her completely before he thrusts back in, reaching deeper than before and all she manages to do is hold on as he quickens his pace and takes charge, just like she wanted. 

He falls forward, big arms reaching beneath her and fingers drumming her spine and hip, moving her up and down his cock. He doesn’t leave any part of her unattended, his mouth latches on to the delicate curve of her shoulder and then her throat and sucks, undoubtedly leaving a pretty red blossom there. 

Rey cries out, the heels of her feet dig into his ass and push him forward even though he needs no direction, he’s testing her with every thrust, reaching deep and ruining her for any other men.

His pants soundtrack his efforts, the sweat of his brow testament to it but she breathes him in, the smell of him and sex like a drug she’ll happily consume until she has her fill and reaches that higher than high feeling.

There’s so much she wants to do, all the positions of her bending in ways that would make her reach another level but it’s not the right time. Both are nearly fully clothed, the rustle of fabric and the strain of buttons is what they get.

“You’re so tight, you’re squeezing the life out of me,” Ben huffs, his dark hair conceals his face, it tickles her cheek and the words inspire her to clamp down on him some more so she can show just how tight he is.

He curses, hips stuttering when she does.

“Fuck,” she mumbles.

It’s difficult to keep up with the quickness of Ben’s thrusts, he alternates at all the right times. Between the slow, deep lunges to the quick, hard thrusts, she’s near incoherent, especially when his thumb finds her clit and rolls it in tight circles like she’s something to be played with.

“I want to fuck you from behind, can I?”

His movements slow until he nearly pulls out completely and her insides work to keep him in, spasming to catch up but he’s faster.

Having him bend her over a desk has been one of the most prominent fantasies since day one of her employment with the company. 

He stands back, eyeing her cunt all insatiable looking, his hand creeps up her leg but she shimmies forward until her feet touch the ground and they are chest to chest.

“Of course, Mr Solo,” she whispers, giving his cock a quick tug. The fact that it’s wet with her own juices is a bonus.

She bends over, chest flat against the desk and spreads her legs, she leaves Ben to prepare her which he seems happy to do.

He tuts his tongue, palming the soft curve of her ass and squeezes like he’s accessing her and ensuring she’s capable of taking his cock despite how she just had him inside of her.

“I love your ass, maybe one day I’ll fuck it too,” he croons.

She’s never been fucked there before but she’s always been curious and would love to explore with him.

With her stomach and cheek pressed against the desk, it’s hard to draw in a steady breath. Fingers hike up her skirt right past her hips in a less than ceremonial way. The cold air hits her, a contrast to the warmth of her skin and she splays her fingers wide, bracing herself.

“So pretty,” Ben breathes out, placing a kiss on one cheek before standing again and pressing his hand between her shoulder blades.

In response, she wiggles her ass, feeling his cock settle between her legs and graze her folds. She likes that, feeling the veins and twitches send her over the edge some more.

“I’m not going to manage much longer,” he sighs, finally burying himself right to the high, snapping his hips forward.

“Neither am I, please just fuck me,” she moans out.

He does.

While she thought he was deep before, this is something else. It’s hard to tell where she ends and he begins and that’s how she wants it to be from now on. Just him and her taking pleasure whenever they want to, regardless of the time or setting. If only they’d done this years ago, they’d wasted so much time.

She manages to lean on her elbows at one point and even though she’s swearing her blouse, her breasts bounce back and forth in time with Ben’s thrusts. She bites into her lip, concealing moans but Ben’s having none of that. He gathers her hair and twists it in his palm then pulls. The pull makes her drop her hand from her mouth like it’s burned. The craning of her neck exposes her throat and face, Ben follows her down, his front taut against her back. The size difference between them aids in this, it’s easy for him to mouth along her straining tendons and make lewd promises. 

It’s like being owned, the heavy press of another human weighing her down and tying her to him but it’s bliss. If anyone were to walk in, they’d see exactly who she belonged to, see the man who she loved being dominated by. 

“Touch yourself, I want to feel you come with me.”

She notices he slows, perhaps in an effort to stave off his own orgasm. It occurs to her that he’s bareback, no discussion of contraceptives discussed. From her small number of partners, regular testing and the fact she’s not been with anyone in over two years comes as a relief. 

“I’m clean and have an IUD, you can come in me.”

“I’m clean too and that’s exactly what I wanted to do, I want it inside you for days so all you can feel is me.”

Such a thought.

Her fingers nudge at her clit, working it in a way only she can do through years of familiarity and exploration and soon she is gasping, trembling from the effort to stand and the feel of being full.

“Fuck,” she cries out, coming just as Ben does.

It’s the most intense orgasm of her life, she’s overstimulated and tears fill her eyes as Ben’s name falls out of her mouth like she’s whispering to a god.

Hot spurts of his come coat her insides, she quivers and tenses uncontrollably, milking him for all he’s worth. He rumbles in a way she’s never heard before, breathing hard with his mouth and planting sloppy, wet kisses along her shoulder.

They remain like that for a moment, each trying to catch their breath before Ben reluctantly pulls out. 

He tugs at her skirt, righting it despite the sticky mess between her thighs. They both collapse to the floor on their backs and she nestles herself into his side and gazes up at the ceiling.

“That was-“

“Perfect,” he finishes and it’s hard to think of a word more suiting. She nods, threading their fingers and hums, thinking this is right, this is where she needs to be.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asks casually but the way his heart thuds quite wild underneath her cheek tells her that he’s likely excited or nervous. It is nice.

“I have nothing planned, unless you count a long, hot shower as I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow.”

His husky laugh fills the quiet space.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

He gazes down at her, a slow smile curling his lips. He somehow appears younger and softer, utterly at ease in her presence. She guesses not too many people see him like this.

She’s not sure what they were going to become after today. Of course she hoped to date him but she’s a realist. If they only had this, secret meetings and stolen kisses behind office doors, she would have jumped at the chance and taken any part of himself that he was willing to give.

“Like a date?”

She’s almost scared to say it aloud. They’re from two different worlds in relation to their position in society. She always imagined him marrying an equally wealthy heiress or some high-strung model who hid many things behind a perfect Hollywood smile.

To think he would want to date her is unimaginable but a tiny spark of hope worms its way into her mind, just as bright at the pair of wide, orange topaz eyes pinning her in place. There’s no thought or contemplation, no hesitation when he answers her question almost as soon as it left her lips.

“Of course. I know we did this backwards but I want you. Not just sex.”

She clings to him some more, struck by the heavy feeling of being wanted. It’s foreign and she feels so full of warmth. Their thoughts and wants are mirrored and that brings a great deal of comfort and excitement for what’s next.

“I feel the same way,” she confesses, idly playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“Then it’s a date,” he whispers, cupping her jaw and kissing her once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone still reading. I apologise for the long wait, my mental health declined and I have been trying to deal with that.
> 
> Thank you to Rachel, my beautiful smut worm who cheered me on with this.
> 
> Just a short epilogue chapter to go and then this will be complete ❤️


	4. Reversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something short and sweet to end this wee dive into smut ❤️

**TWO YEARS LATER**

Rey sprawls out on the couch, yawning and stretching her legs like a spoiled house cat. Saturdays are usually reserved for doing nothing at all. The night before had left her bone tired. After an excitable evening of wining and dining, she fell into bed with her legs sprawled wide by large palms. That was accompanied by lips against her own that eventually made their enthusiastic downward descent and coaxed breathy moans and wet heat.

It’s hard to imagine a time when she wasn’t with Ben. They’re practically inseparable, preferring time alone in their penthouse apartment or quiet vacations on the coast.

Waking up alone is not abnormal.

Ben’s an early riser. 

As soon as the sun cracks open the sky and starts its upward ascent, he’s up on his feet, unwilling to waste even a single second of his day. Hardworking, productive and efficient in time management, it’s likely the reason why he’s in the position he is. Millennium Solo Industries remains the leading and most prominent production company in the world. Hefty profits, power and untold wealth come hand in hand with control of said business empire.

So when she wakes this Saturday, she assumes Ben went out to run some errands or make use of his gym. Unlike him, she’s lazy on her days off and wastes time instead of attempting to muster up even a crumb of willpower and do something other than sit still.

It’s why after she scrubs the taste of merlot and Ben’s cum out of her mouth, she drags her feet and promptly flops down on the couch.

She’s an hour into a ‘Cops’ marathon when her phone rings. 

She sighs, refusing to gaze away from the screen where yet another criminal tries their luck in jumping over fences and backyards in an effort to evade capture. She pats the couch in search of it using touch and hearing alone until she fingers the device. Even when she swipes to answer the call, her attention is elsewhere.

“Hello?”

There’s nothing but rustling and footsteps on the other end, a mixture of faint and loud spectrums of sounds.

Frowning, she checks the display and finds that it’s Ben who called her.

“Ben?”

No answer.

She tries his name a few more times without much luck when the penny finally drops.

It’s a butt dial.

It’s not remotely like her own, when she whimpered and plunged her fingers inside of her cunt and pretended they were Ben’s. 

The memory stains her cheeks a rosy pink. 

Feeling quite curious, she sits up, leaning against the back of the couch and puts the call on loudspeaker so she can hear everything a little more clearer. 

It works.

“I don’t know, I just need it to be perfect,” Ben murmurs lowly, sounding more anxious than she’s ever heard him before.

It sparks her interest, though she acknowledges he’s likely discussing business. He strives for the best in all he does.

“She’ll love it, Ben. You know your grandmother wanted you to give her ring to the love of your life,” Leia assures him in a tone that she recognised, so full of motherly warmth.

Rey drops the phone and cups her mouth. She blinks a few times, dumbfounded and sure she’s misheard.

It can’t be what she thinks it is.

“Do you think it’s too soon? I love her more than anything but what if I scare her off with this?” 

“Dear, your father proposed to me-“

“I’ve heard this story a million times before.”

“You will hear it a million more times. He proposed to me just a month after we met and we’re still going strong today.”

“How can you be sure that Rey and I are the same?”

“The way she looks at you tells me all I need to know. It’s obvious she loves you.”

“You’re right, I’m just so nervous,” he laughs out breathlessly.

“I always am. Benny, everything will be okay. Take her out tonight just like you’ve planned and pop the question.”

There’s a short silence and Rey’s heart races harder than it has ever before. Of course she wants to marry him. If he asks, she’ll say yes without a second thought. With the way she’s feeling, she’ll scream down the phone and hope he hears her or answer before he can even finish the question in person. It’s all she wants. To spend the rest of her life with him is a dream she wants to make reality and one simple answer can do that.

“Thanks, mom.”

Rey ends the call.

There’s not much she can do.

The conversation not meant for her ears relays in her head repeatedly like a drum thats beat is never ending. In just a matter of hours she can be his wife to be. 

Mrs Rey Solo. 

“Rey Solo,” she murmurs lowly, voice thick with tears that were coaxed only by pure serenity and contentment. 

As time goes on, there are more tears but those run with hot water when she showers, hoping to compose and clean herself. The night ahead promises plenty of excitement and love and skin against skin. A whisper of her answer to him. 

By the time she dresses back into fresh lounge wear, hoping not to raise suspicion, the sound of keys jingling alerts her to Ben’s presence. 

It’s hard not to rush forward, all eager and light.

Instead, she stretches and fakes a yawn.

“Hey, big boy,” she calls out casually, rising to her feet. 

The nickname just stuck and despite how much he grumbled about it, she knew he secretly loved it. A firm grip by her little hands between his legs always makes him blush.

He strolls in with a bouquet of flowers concealing his face. They’re sunflowers, her favourite. 

She squeals, rushing forward and takes them from his hands and practically nose dives into the petals and inhales. It puts her at ease.

“What’s the occasion?” She asks lightly, standing on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his lips.

He runs his fingers through her hair and flashes an easy, crooked grin down at her.

“Can’t I buy flowers for the woman I love?” He shrugs but she can see right through him. 

It’s no surprise he’s nervous and she thinks it’s sweet. He follows her like a shadow as she arranges the flowers in a jade coloured vase and fingers the petals, loving the silky texture.

It’s her way of busying her mind. There’s so much she wants to say but she will go at his pace.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, hugging her from behind, his hands splay across her stomach and pull at the hem of her camisole.

Is she okay? She is. Around him, she’s always okay and the anticipation makes her excited. 

By the end of the night he would go down on one knee and ask her to be his forever. She turns in his hold, breathing the almost intoxicating scent of his cologne and rests her head against his chest so she can hear the sound of his heart. 

“Never been better…Mr Solo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to Rachel who encouraged me endlessly with this. She’s such a special person & so talented & she is a smut goddess who I’m so thankful for ❤️
> 
> Addy, you butt-dialled me and because of that, I could not resist this 🖤
> 
> Meg, I am still blasting all those good songs 💚
> 
> And a special thank you to all of you that have read and encouraged me with this one.
> 
> Since May, life has been very dark for me but this fandom and the positive and warm people have been wee stars in my sky and for that, I cannot thank you all enough 😍✨

**Author's Note:**

> And I oop


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